Page 9 of Body Check
“Hey, if you’re going inside, bring back some drinks from the cooler. This one’s empty,” Coconut Bra Guy says, looking in my direction before pointing at the plastic cooler near his feet.
I’m not his waitress, but I’m also not arguing with a drunk guy, so I offer a noncommittal nod and lift the hem of my paper dress as I make my way up the wooden steps.
“Dude, you can’t just ask a girl to refill your beer. What the hell is wrong with you?” This comes from Caution Tape Guy, so I bump him to a C+ in my head. His costume took minimal effort, but he seems like a halfway decent human, and that’s worth extra credit.
“She’s going inside. How hard is it to bring a case of beer out here?” Coconut Bra Guy retorts.
“That girl is going inside for one reason and one reason only,” Beer Shorts Guy proclaims.
My hand is on the handle of the sliding glass door, but I pause because I’m curious to hear the rest of his sentence.
Spoiler alert: My innate curiosity has never done me any favors, and I know I should have gone inside when I had thechance. Instead, I’m standing here as the rain begins to drizzle, listening to a jerk spew insults at my back.
“She’s going inside for snacks. She’s not come back with your beer, Dougie, she’s gonna eat her way through the hockey boys’ pantry.”
“You’re such a dick, Lanza,” Coconut Bra Guy says, but he gets no points for that assessment because he’s laughing at his friend’s comments.
“I’m a dick for stating a fact? Look at her. That girl weighs more than you and me combined. Everybody knows those drug store receipts are long as hell, but it still must have taken a damn decade to collect enough to make that dress.”
For a second, I just freeze. I like to think I’ve become immune to the nasty things people say about my body when they think I can’t hear them, or even when they know I can. As a plus size woman, I’ve been judged and teased most of my life. My own mom has said much worse than this stranger just did, and I survived my childhood and lived to tell the tale. Truthfully, though, one of the only reasons I did survive is because Bran had my back every step of the way. When he couldn’t prevent all the teasing that was hurled in my direction, or the hateful way that family members would judge how much food was on my plate at Christmas dinner, he shored up my confidence.They’re just jealous that you’re smarter than all of us,he’d say as we sat in the back of mom’s minivan on the way home from a holiday gathering. Bran never let me wallow in their harsh comments, and he always made sure I knew my worth.
That’s why I know for a fact that if I walk into this party and tell my brother that some shithead named Lanza made disparaging comments about my body, Bran will kick his ass and then kick him off the property.
A small part of me wants this idiot to get what’s coming to him, but Bran’s had a rough few weeks. This is supposed to behis best year yet, but the new guys on his team are making his life a living hell. It’s just the one guy, really. Dick. But he and Bran have almost come to blows, and the only reason they haven’t is that Coach would likely bench them, and the season hasn’t even started yet. If I go running to Bran because some jerk thought the size of my ass was up for commentary, he could get in serious trouble for fighting.
That’s no way to pay back all that he’s done for me. Before the idiots are done laughing at their mean, small-minded comments, I march down the stairs and off the deck, determined to make my way to the front of the house. If I step inside now, Bran will know something’s up just by looking at the flush on my face. This stupid fair skin of mine makes it impossible to hide any emotion, so I need a minute to get myself together.
I’m not going to involve my brother. That’s not necessary. Bran taught me well, and I can handle my own shit. I can also handle shitheads like this idiot and his friends. I turn to face the hecklers, and Coconut Bra guy spots me immediately. His face goes beet-red because he knows he’s been caught. Before he can sputter a warning to his buddies, I stride over to their table and smile as I pick up the cooler by their feet. There’s no beer left, but there’s a fair amount of ice and plenty of cold, refreshing water.
“You need more beer?” I ask.
They talk over each other as one of them tries to mutter a half-hearted apology, and another one looks excited at the thought that I’m actually going to bring him beer.
Fat chance. I laugh at my own joke as I lift up the cooler and dump the chilly, watery contents directly onto the one guy’s beer-box board shorts. The water makes enough of a splash that his friends are feeling the effects of my annoyance, too.
“Sorry,” I say, my voice sickeningly sweet. “It just slipped out of my hands. I’m so hungry, I’m practically shaking. Oops.”
I don’t stick around for the fallout. The names they called me before the waterfall were nasty enough that I’m not sticking around for the reprise. I don’t want to head inside, either. I’m exhausted, and I just need a little downtime. I hate to disappoint Bran, but I am not in the mood to be social.
A crack of thunder from the sky above is the only warning I get before the rain starts pouring down. Well, that’s a sign from the heavens that I have a free pass to get out of here.
The rain is sudden and strong. In less than a minute, I’m soaked to the bone, and my costume is ruined. I know that if I texted Brannon right now, told him I was outside, and explained that I got caught in the storm, he’d whip up some ridiculous outfit and welcome me into the party. That’s just the kind of guy he is. But I’m taking this downpour for the sign that it clearly is. Fishing my key fob from my bra, I swap it with my phone and turn in the direction of my parked car. Once I’m safely inside, I tap out a quick message to my brother so he doesn’t worry.
Birdie: I’m so sorry, but I’m exhausted. I worked all day at the salon and styled hair for a wedding. My fingers may fall off. I think I’m going to stay home, if that’s okay? I promise I’ll come to the next party!
Disappointing my brother is the worst feeling, but I’m just not in the mood to face a houseful of drunk party guests, especially if that jerk Lanza is still hanging around. My phone chimes almost immediately, and I glance at the screen.
Brannon:That’s cool, I know you’ve gotta be tired. If you still wanna come over, though, I can call for a rideshare and you can crash in my room. I’ll sleep on one of the couches.
Birdie: You are the world’s best brother, but all I want to do is crawl into my own bed and veg for a while.
Brannon: Okay, but call me tomorrow. We can hit up the diner for a greasy breakfast. But, like, at two p.m.? Because there’s no way I’m waking up before noon.
Birdie: Greasy breakfast for lunch sounds delicious. I’ll meet you there at two.
It only takes me a few minutes to drive back to my dorm, and the halls are practically empty because it’s a Saturday night. I’m grateful for the solitude because there’s not much left of my dress at this point, and the pieces that are intact are clinging to my skin. I may be proud of my body, but that doesn’t mean I want my neighbors to see me half-naked. Luckily, though, there’s only one guy in the common area when I pass, and he’s cuddled up on the ping pong table having a nice nap.
A scalding shower does wonders for my mood, but I just don’t have the energy for a face mask or pedicure. Truthfully, I barely have enough energy to tap my phone screen and tune back into the audiobook I’ve been listening to. Luckily, I summon just enough to hit Play, then I shut my eyes and escape to a world of knights and dukes, chivalry, and seriously hot sex. Considering the hygiene of the time period, I’m not so sure the spicy scenes are accurate, but with the way this author writes, I am willing to suspend my disbelief. I crawl under the covers and begin listening to a particularly steamy scene between Count Fairlane and the daughter of the town farrier. And if, in my imagination, the count happens to have the same physique as the broody guy on the corner of the deck at the hockey house tonight, so be it. I didn’t catch a glimpse of his face, but theimage of his v-shaped torso and muscular backside is doing double time in my filthy mind as I drift off to sleep.
